Not About the Books
by Dani Pink Cloud
Summary: "It's not about the books anymore." What we don't see in the amazing "Knockdown." Do Castle and Beckett know more than they let on?
1. The Stranger

**Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. That would mean that I was brilliant and hilarious and amazing in general. Which I feel like I am, but...not enough to own Castle. xD**

**A/N: Based off of "Knockdown" (which, by the way, was AMAZING! Who agrees?) and the amazing quote, "It's not about the books anymore." It's basically my idea of what might have happened that we didn't get to see...**

Staring at his mother, wondering what to think about what she had just said, Castle said in a quiet answer, "It's not about the books anymore." He tore his eyes away from his mother and pushed himself out of his chair.

From behind his back came a voice, one that did not belong to his mother, a voice whose rasping sound grated on Castle's ears and burned itself into his memory. "What is it about, then, Castle?"

Castle whipped around. A man in civilian clothes and a black ski mask was holding his mother by the shoulder with a gun cocked at her temple. Inside, Castle screamed like a little girl – this man had his mother! But on the outside, he knew better.

"Who are you and why are you here?" he demanded. Best to get straight to the point. _Dammit! _He thought to himself. _I need to get Beckett to get me a gun. _

"Who am I? Like I would tell you," the man snorted. "Why am I here?" He paused. "You know too much."

_Who do I know about, who might this be, is this Beckett's mother's killer? . . . No, not professional enough . . . _Castle's mind raced on and on. Without moving, he scanned the room. Nothing had been moved, but . . . the carpet had been vacuumed just this morning. So how were there footprints, impressions of a pair of running shoes just like the ones Castle noticed on the stranger's feet, coming from the hall? A minute shift of his head later, Castle could see all the way down the hall. That meant he could see the sparkling drops on the floor, the sparkles he knew were shattered glass, outside of Alexis's room. But he hadn't heard glass break . . .

Castle snapped back to look at the stranger. "How long have you been here? And where is my daughter?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Ignoring the first question and flashing a bright white smile, the raspy voice said, "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

Castle glared at him suspiciously. "Because you'll shoot me, or her. That's why." His mother's eyes went wide; she was scared out of her wits. But Castle couldn't do anything to help her.

"I won't. I want you to find her. Go on, your mother's safe," the stranger encouraged.

"I don't believe you."

"Well, I do believe I'm the one with the gun. _Go,_" the stranger ordered.

Castle, who never followed orders from anyone except his mother, Beckett, and Alexis, obeyed, carefully stepping around the footprints and glass. He would need both later. Gingerly he stepped into Alexis's room.

His daughter was splayed across her floor, her strawberry-blonde hair in a glowing halo around her face. But there was no blood. Castle rushed to her and put his fingers to her wrist. There was a pulse. A faint one, but still a pulse. She was alive, unconscious.

Castle thought for a split second, decided his plan would work, and rushed into Alexis's adjoining bathroom. He scooped up a handful of water from the sink and dumped it on his daughter's face, covering her mouth with his hand to stifle the spluttering gasps she made was she regained consciousness.

"You'll thank me later," Castle hissed.

"Hey!" A shout from the next room rang out. "What's going on in there?"

"Who is that, Dad?" Alexis whispered.

"Great question. You need to get out. _Now,_" Castle ordered her. "Fire escape in the guest room."

Alexis nodded. The bathroom connected her room and the guest room; she would be safe. She stumbled to her feet. "Dad . . ." she trailed off.

"Go," Castle ordered. "I'll be fine." Footsteps pounded down the hall.

"I love you, Dad," Alexis said softly and quickly before dashing from the room.

Castle watched her go. The footsteps were getting closer; he had to buy her some time. He tried to move, to block the doorway, but the stranger in the ski mask was already there. Castle stared at him, straight into the cold eyes.

But the stranger refused to remain in eye contact with Castle, making Castle wonder if the stranger was trying to hide his identity – because Castle knew him? But he put the thought into the back of his mind; right now he had the lives of his daughter, mother, and himself to worry about. The stranger looked around Castle, and then roared in rage, "Where is she?"

Castle shrugged. "I'd ask the same question of you."

"You woke her up. She's escaping!" The stranger shoved past Castle and, instantly noticing the open bathroom door, ran through into the guest room. Both he and Castle caught a glimpse of golden-reddish hair out the window, and then she was gone.

Before the stranger could react, Castle dove for his belt, seizing his handgun and turning it on its owner. He held it up, backing away from the stranger with him at gunpoint. He backed all the way into the hallway.

"Mother!" he shouted down the hall. "Get out!" There was no response, but he heard her feet running toward the door, and he knew she would be safe. Hopefully Alexis would find her, and they could hide until it was safe for them to be here.

But inside, Castle knew that now it would never be safe for them. Because they were connected to him.

He turned back to the stranger, who had been rummaging around inside his trench coat and now held another gun. But this time, he had upgraded. Now he held a giant army-status machine gun in his arms. Through a small hole in the ski mask, Castle saw him grin evilly.

"Oh. Uh . . ." Castle trailed off, unable to match the stranger's threat.

"That's right. You come with me," he rasped in reply.

**A/N: Rather mysterious, eh? I hope so, anyway. Please review!**


	2. Something on You

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Castle. Sadface.**

"Can I get you something to drink? Or eat? Anything?" Castle offered, if only to break the silence between the two men as they sat facing each other in Castle's living room. Besides, poison was always an option. Castle never knew what was in that refrigerator; he could probably whip out something noxious enough.

The stranger shook his head slowly. That evil grin was still on his face. It was perturbing Castle more and more by the second.

Castle finally leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You want something. What is it?" he asked curtly.

"I want you to get off the case," the stranger answered simply.

"What case?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

And Castle did indeed. The investigation on Raglan's killer, on Beckett's mom's case. Well, this guy could be sure of one thing – Castle was _not _going to stop now. "You've got nothing on me now," he answered.

"Nothing on you? Are you sure about that?" the stranger said, his smile growing wider.

Of course, Castle couldn't be sure right away – he was too busy thinking about how that connected to B.o.b.'s song, "Nothin' on You" – but then he realized something else. "You wouldn't," he hissed.

"Wouldn't what? Reveal your secret, messed up mindset to the public?" the stranger taunted. And then Castle knew – the stranger didn't know anything about Beckett. About him and Beckett. About how much he cared about Beckett.

"What?" Castle asked blankly.

"I asked you earlier: 'What is it about, then?' Because your mother's question was spot-on. Why are you so morbidly interested in these homicide cases you work on? It's not the books. She was right about another thing – you didn't need to hang around the police station to write your other twenty-two books. So why do you now? Because you think you need to? Because you've fooled yourself into believing that your morbid fascination with murder and death is solely from writing those books?" The ski mask shifted, and Castle could tell that the stranger was raising his eyebrows beneath the black hood. "No. It's because you are _obsessed _with death. You love the idea of homicide. And one day," the man leaned forward to match Castle's position, "you plan to commit it yourself."

Castle pulled away sharply, quickly. "What are you talking about?" he asked harshly.

"I may not be right," the stranger answered. "But the general public doesn't know that."

Castle's eyes widened. He had seen bunches of homicide victims and watched murderers be arrested. He had even been kidnapped at least once. But never had he been blackmailed – unless you counted the thousands of times Alexis had hung the threat of telling his mother about his secret thieving from her private chocolate stash over his head. This time, it was real. This time, Castle was actually, legitimately scared.

The stranger chuckled to himself as he stood up. "You thought I had nothing on you. Well, I've certainly got _something _on you, boy," he laughed evilly.

Castle watched as he walked casually out of the room, never looking back. Castle looked at the gun in his hand, then back to the too-confident man. The shot would be pointless; Castle could almost guarantee that the man was wearing a bulletproof vest under that thick overcoat. Plus, Castle would be dead in seconds if he fired the shot. He laid the gun down, hoping that maybe the stranger's fingerprints would still be salvageable from it.

At the last second before the door closed behind him, the stranger caught it and added, "Oh, and don't you dare tell anyone about this. Especially your little pet detective." He smirked. "Or else."

**A/N: A shorter chapter, but it finishes off the scene. Reviews are still wanted and appreciated!**


	3. The Stranger Returns

**Disclaimer: *checks pockets* Nope, still don't own Castle. **

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story. I love you all. :) I hope this chapter meets your high expectations; I worked long and hard during class on it. ;)**

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"Beckett," the detective answered her cell phone. She didn't recognize the number, so her voice was harsh. "Oh, _hi, _Josh," she said, smiling and softening her voice. She dropped onto her sofa and settled in for a long chat with her overseas boyfriend. "How's saving humanity in Africa going?"

He immediately launched into a gushing account of his work in Africa, complete with graphic details. Beckett had to admit, she was proud of her boyfriend. But when you weren't a cardiac surgeon, listening to all the jargon was tough. Of course, it was probably bad enough for him with all her cop jargon, so she gave him a break.

Josh's story slowed down, and he finally said softly, "I miss you, Kate."

"I miss you, too," she answered. But she couldn't help but feel that he missed her more than she did him. It was always like that, she realized; him with the stronger emotions and her just going along with it.

"You need to be careful, Kate. Your work – it's so dangerous. I don't want to lose you," Josh continued sincerely.

Beckett shivered, remembering a gunshot, shattered glass, and a man with the light draining slowly from his eyes . . . It was as though Josh knew all about the morning's events.

"Don't worry about me, Josh," Beckett answered more casually than she was feeling. There was a knock on the door, which made her jolt, but she didn't bother getting up to answer it. "You're the one who's in _Africa _right now."

Josh spoke again, at the same time as someone outside began talking. Beckett could only hear clearly Josh's voice though. "Yes, I know, but honestly, we need to talk about your work. If we're going to be serious about our relationship –"

But the knocking had turned to pounding, and Beckett's head pounded just thinking about the idea of talking about relationships. "Uh, can we wait to talk about this later? I have to get the door." The perfect excuse; not even a lie. Beckett got to her feet and thought to herself for the millionth time how much she wished she had a peephole.

"Fine," Josh sighed. "I'll talk to you later, then."

"Sure," she answered distractedly. "Later."

"Love you. Bye."

"Bye."

Beckett snapped her cell phone shut sharply, slid it into her pocket, and opened the door, distracted by Josh's last comment – only to find someone she never would have expected. Someone she wished she would have expected.

A man who wore dark, baggy clothes to hide his true stature and a black ski mask stood menacingly at the door. Lumps under his dark coat told Beckett he was armed. "Hello, Detective Beckett," he greeted her in a raspy, grating voice. But behind the rasping sound, she thought she could detect something oddly familiar . . .

"Who are you and how the hell did you get up here?" she demanded, mind racing. Her gun was inside; so was her badge, her emblem of authority . . . she didn't have time to run for either, and now the man was pushing his way into her apartment.

She reached for the door to slam it in his face, but the man swatted her arm away, gripping it hard. Beckett pulled away and allowed herself a small smile – the stranger wasn't wearing gloves.

With his other hand he slipped something into his coat, something silver and shiny – a cell phone, maybe – in exchange for a handgun. He shoved his way into the apartment, knocking the door shut.

In answer to Beckett's earlier question, the stranger smiled. "I have my ways."

"I'm NYPD, you can't –" Beckett objected fiercely, her eyes flaming as he pushed her farther into the apartment.

"And who's going to stop me?" He smiled wider. "I'm the one with the gun."

"Who are you and what do you want?" Beckett hissed through her teeth.

"I want you," he paused creepily, "I want you to stay off this case."

"What case?" she spat.

"I think you know what I'm talking about."

"And if I don't?"

"You're a detective. You'll figure it out." The stranger smirked.

Slowly stepping closer, Beckett asked, "What if I don't want to listen to you? I don't have to, you know. You can't –" While the stranger was distracted by her words and movements, Beckett dove to the left, where her gun hung on its belt on a hook. She seized the gun and held it up. "-do anything to me."

"Maybe not to _you,_" the stranger smiled evilly. "But I'd recommend you listen. _Stay off the case."_

"Beckett knew exactly what he was talking about, and it infuriated her. This was blackmail. But the problem with blackmail, especially in this situation, was that she couldn't arrest him for it, not without solid evidence. Of course, that wasn't to say that this man knew that . . .

Fuming, she considered the facts. It was Raglan's case – which might be related to _her mother's _case – versus the lives of everyone she cared about. Josh. Ryan, Esposito, Lanie, Montgomery. Castle. Clearly, this guy was messed in the head; if he wasn't, he wouldn't be forcing her to make this choice. He wouldn't be threatening everything in the world she cared about. Maybe even loved, although that was pushing it for Detective Kate Beckett.

Beckett pursed her lips, still holding the gun up tensely. Then she relaxed her expression (but not, of course, her weapon) and said thoughtfully, "Sing Sing is . . . well, not the best place to be. I've seen a lot of people in there. A lot of them I put there myself." She cocked her head. "I could help you join them easily enough."

Even though Beckett couldn't see the man's actual face, she would swear she saw the cocky grin leave his face slightly, his eyes become a little wary. She smirked. "Or," she continued sweetly, "you could turn yourself in and suffer a much more minor punishment."

"You're tougher than I thought," the man said, impressed. "I like that."

"In that case, you have greatly underestimated me. Because this," she leaned forward, "this isn't even _close _to tough."

The man took a step back, pulling his face away as if worried she might recognize him. Beckett watched him closely, suspiciously, making him uncomfortable.

But he didn't move, and he didn't say a thing.

"Surrender now," Beckett advised him harshly.

"He glanced up at her from his shoes and suddenly the raspy, grating tone to his voice was gone as he said, "I don't think so, honey. And I'd remember my warning if I were you." He spun around and, trusting that she wouldn't shoot, walked out the door, leaving Kate Beckett stunned speechless.

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**A/N: And the plot thickens! Don't worry, guys; I plan on finishing this soon. As in before Monday's episode. I feel like it would be totally messed up if I wait until after the new ep, so I'll update soon!**

**P.S. Who's gonna be the first to guess who the creepy stranger guy is? Review and let me know what you think!**

**P.P.S. This chapter is a Project PULL piece. Check it out!**


	4. Encounters of the Random Kind

**Disclaimer: I do not own Castle. Sorry to disappoint.**

**A/N: This story will continue to take place directly after "Knockdown." Let's just pretend "Lucky Stiff" and next week's episode don't exist while I finish up this story, 'kay? :)**

**Also, how amazing was "Lucky Stiff"? I mean of course Castle is always amazing. In fact, I had a Castle Season 1 marathon with some of my besties last Saturday night (yeah, we're cool.), which was great. But the end of "Lucky Stiff"...*sigh* So cute. :)**

**Yeah, yeah, I know. You're all like, "Shut up, Dani, we wanna read the story!" So here ya go. Product of religion and chemistry classes, brought to you by Dani. **

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_The rest of "Knockdown" happens after that last chapter. That includes The Kiss. There's all the amazingness that is "Knockdown." Then comes this._

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It was late. Too late for anyone but Beckett to be around the 12th (because Beckett was always there. She apparently did not need sleep.), but Castle had already scanned the place. She had gone home at last.

Castle ducked into the room where Lanie operated, holding pictures of footprints on the floor and a sample of blood from his own carpet. He _would _get info on the guy who had held him hostage in his own home.

What he wouldn't do was let Beckett know anything about this. Just in case.

Beckett lay on her back on her bed, staring absently at the ceiling, wishing she were at the 12th right now. Not for the case, not her mother's case (because she could easily work on that at home), but for her own private case. The stranger in her apartment's case.

She had heard his voice. She, especially, should know it was him. But how could she believe it? It was impossible. She needed proof. That was why she hadn't showered yet, even though it was so late.

1:42 a.m., according to her clock. It was late enough. Montgomery had sent her home today, saying the case was closed even though he knew it wasn't. Beckett would still go back to Sing Sing every week, would still interrogate that evil man, would still try to instill fear in him, and _would, _eventually, get the answer.

_Who hired you?_

Beckett thought she knew. But to a good cop, a homicide detective especially, _thought _meant nothing.

That's why Beckett glanced at her father's watch again, decided it was late enough, threw on her boots and leather jacket, and left her apartment with the lights still on. She was going to the 12th.

The blood was a match. Castle had a name. Of course, the name meant nothing to him; Castle had never met this guy. He didn't think. So he ducked into the archive room at the 12th, which had been left open (by some careless rookie, probably) and which stored information on everybody who had ever been involved in anything criminal, and searched the dark rows, which were lit only by a small fluorescent light.

The name ran through Castle's mind over and over as he searched for the right row of files. Finally he turned down an aisle –

"Beckett?" he asked, at the same time as she gasped, "Castle?"

"What are you doing down here?" they demanded simultaneously.

"I asked you first," Beckett snapped.

"No, no, ladies first," Castle offered.

They stared each other down silently, neither one willing to give in. Eventually, after thinking for a while, Castle sighed, "Well . . . it's a little late now . . ."

"No way, it's like two in the morning," Beckett snapped grumpily.

"Not that." Castle shook his head, a smile on his face. "You think two in the morning is late? Come on."

"What's too late?" Beckett asked sharply, ignoring his other comment.

Castle ignored the question right back. "Are we alone?"

Beckett rolled her eyes, blushing furiously and remembering a certain other time when they had been alone together recently. "Unfortunately, yes," she said, grateful for the dim lighting.

"Good. I have something to tell you." Stepping a little closer, Castle took a deep breath and added, "Two things actually."

"Well, I have something to tell _you, _too," Beckett said after some thought. He would discover what she was doing soon, anyway. If she didn't tell him, he'd pry into her life and somehow he would find out.

"Me first," Castle insisted. Beckett shrugged. How bad could it be in comparison with _her _news?

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**The review button could use some love! And don't worry, next chapter soon to come! I just need to type it up, because it's also a product of classes...is it a bad thing that I do all my writing in school?...**


	5. The L Word

**Disclaimer: This is so redundant. I hereby disclaim the rest of the story: I DO NOT OWN CASTLE.**

**A/N: Sorry for the cliffie last chapter. I could have combined them, but the suspense is so great. xD I loved writing this, and I hope you love reading it!**

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The words gushed out of Castle's mouth, unrestrained, like a tidal wave washing over Beckett's stunned, beautiful self. "I love you." He exhaled, relieved to have said it last after all this time. "I loved you from the moment I met you."

Beckett couldn't seem to look away, to tear her eyes away from Castle's deep, sincere gaze. Maybe because of the shock. Maybe it was because of the way all the other thoughts racing through her head had suddenly halted and faded away into thoughts of Castle.

Or maybe it was because she wanted to say the same to him.

Castle gave a kind of exhilarated laugh. "I love you, Kate. Aren't you going to say something? Profess your love for me? Deny me hatefully? Tell me I'm the stupidest man alive? Use your superawesome karate skills on me?"

Beckett smiled. "It's martial arts. And the second-to-last one there is kinda always true. But," she stepped even closer to him, "I think . . . I'm going to go with the first one." And she reached up to kiss him.

Castle, shocked out of his right mind, couldn't think to do anything except kiss her back. When at last they pulled apart, he smiled. "Does this mean I can call you Kate now?"

"Only in private," Beckett smiled, raising her eyebrows. And she kissed him again, completely forgetting why she and Castle had run into each other in the middle of the night in the archive room at the 12th at all.

They didn't take it too far. Castle and Beckett each woke up in their beds in their own apartments. But their mornings were exact parallels.

The first thing Castle thought when he woke up was, _Kate. _He smiled at the memory. Then, as he was getting ready, _Shit. Mother and Alexis. And what about everyone at the 12th? Oh, God . . . _He tried to leave the apartment quickly, choosing his friends at the 12th as the lesser of two evils.

As for Beckett, the first thing she thought when she woke up was, _Rick. _She, too, smiled. And as she was getting ready, she remembered, _Crap. Josh. And Ryan and Esposito and Lanie and Captain Montgomery . . . Oh, God. _But she had no choice in the matter; this was her job. So she started on her way to the 12th, dreading and yet anticipating seeing Castle.

Castle was on his way when his cell phone rang. Beckett's photo ID popped up. He hit the green answer button and sang, "Good morning!"

"Act normal," Beckett's voice hissed in his ear.

"What?" he asked stupidly.

"When we get to the 12th, _act normal. _Or do you want to be the subject of the boys' bets?"

Castle snorted. "Come on, Kate. You do realize Lanie takes bets too, right?"

Silence for a moment. "Oh, that girl . . ." Beckett growled. Castle laughed. Then the line went dead as he pulled up outside the 12th at the exact same time as Beckett.

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**A/N: That was way more fun to write than it was to pay attention in math class. xD Sorry it's so short; I'm working on another chapter, but it's less happy and light and more dark and serious. Thusly, it's going to take a little bit to write. My apologies. Reviews will encourage me, however! :D**


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